Announcer: Hello and welcome to the Ronald Reagan Memorial Bowl, here in the pretty L.A. suburb of Hollywood. Well, we're about to witness All-in Wrestling, brought to you tonight, ladies and gentlemen, by the makers of Scum, the world's first combined hair oil, foot ointment, and salad dressing; and by the makers of Titan, the novelty nuclear missile. You never know when it'll go off.
First Bruce: They're a typical Hollywood audience. All the kids are on drugs and all the adults are on roller skates.
Albatross vendor: Albatross... Albatross. ALBATROSS.
[looks to someone in the crowd]
Albatross vendor: You're not supposed to be smoking that. Albatross.
Someone in the crowd: What flavour is it? What flavour is it?
Albatross person: Seagull sickle... Pelican bon-bon... ALBATROSS.
Albatross person: I will have two ice creams, please.
Albatross vendor: I don't have any ice creams, I've just got this albatross. ALBATROSS.
Albatross person: What flavour is it?
Albatross vendor: ...Well it's an albatross. Isn't it? It's not any bloody flavour. ALBATROSS.
Albatross person: It's got to be some flavour, I mean everything's got a flavour.
Albatross vendor: All right. All right. It's bloody... albatross flavour... Bleedin' seabird bleedin' flavour. ALBATROSS.
Albatross person: You get wafers with it?
Albatross vendor: Of course you don't getting fucking wafers with it, you cunt. It's a fucking albatross isn't it.
Michelangelo: Good evening, Your Holiness.
The Pope: Evening, Michelangelo. I want to talk to you about this painting of yours, The Last Supper. I'm not happy about it.
Michelangelo: Oh, dear. It took me hours.
The Pope: Not happy at all.
Michelangelo: Is it the jello you don't like?
The Pope: No.
Michelangelo: It does add a bit of colour, doesn't it. Oh, I know, you don't like the kangaroo.
The Pope: What kangaroo?
Michelangelo: No problem, I'll paint him out.
The Pope: I never saw a kangaroo.
Michelangelo: Uh, he's right at the back. No sweat, I'll make him into a disciple. All right?
The Pope: That's the problem.
Michelangelo: What is?
The Pope: The disciples.
Michelangelo: Are they too Jewish? I made Judas the most Jewish.
The Pope: No, it's just that there are 28 of them.
First Bruce: We find your American beer like making love in a canoe. It's fucking close to water.
Husband: It's the Bishop of Leicester.
Wife: How do you know?
Husband: Tattooed on the back of his neck. I think I'd better call the police.
Wife: Shouldn't you call the church?
Son: Call the Church Police.
Husband: Good idea.
Flying minstrel: I've got two legs, from my hips to the ground / And when I move them, they walk around / And when I lift them, they climb the stairs / And when I shave them, they ain't got hairs.
Barrister 1: I did my whole, "Serious offense" bit and then I waggled me wig!
Husband: You did what?
Barrister 1: I waggled me wig!
First Yorkshireman: Right. I had to get up in the morning at ten o'clock at night, half an hour before I went to bed, eat a lump of cold poison, work twenty-nine hours a day down mill, and pay mill owner for permission to come to work, and when we got home, our Dad would kill us, and dance about on our graves.
Fourth Yorkshireman: But you try and tell the young people today that... and they won't believe ya'.
[the Philosophers' Drinking Song]
First Bruce: Immanuel Kant was a real pissant who was very rarely stable / Heidegger, Heidegger was a boozy beggar who could think you under the table / David Hume could outconsume Schopenhauer and Hegel / And Wittgenstein was a beery swine who was just as schlossed as Schlegel / There's nothing Nietzsche couldn't teach ya 'bout the raisin' of the wrist / Socrates himself was permanently pissed / And John Stuart Mill, of his own free will, on a half a pint of shandy was particularly ill / Plato, they say, could stick it away - half a pint of whiskey, every day / Aristotle, Aristotle was a bugger for the bottle / Hobbes was fond of his dram / And Rene Descartes was a drunken fart: "I drink, therefore I am!" / Yes, Socrates himself is particularly missed... / a lovely little thinker but a bugger when he's pissed.
Argument Customer: This isn't an argument! It's just contradiction!
Mr.Barnard: No, it isn't!
Argument Customer: Yes it is!
Mr.Barnard: No, no, no!
Argument Customer: It is!
Mr.Barnard: No, it isn't!
Argument Customer: Yes it is! An argument is an intellectual process! It isn't just contradiction!
Mr.Barnard: Look, if I'm to argue with you, I have to take up a contracitary position!
Argument Customer: Yes, but it's not just saying "No it isn't!"
Mr.Barnard: Yes, it is!
Argument Customer: No, it isn't!
First Barber, Second Barber, Third Barber, Fourth Barber: [singing] Sit on my face and tell me that you love me, I'll sit on your face and tell you I love you too, I love to hear you oralise, when I'm between your thighs you blow me away. Sit on my face and let my lips embrace you, I'll sit on your face and then I'll love you truly, life can be fine if we both 69, if we sit on our faces in all sorts of places and play till we're blown away.